


Lemon Meringue

by writehandman



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Excessive Fluff, Fluff, M/M, and pie, nothing but fluff, thats it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 15:22:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9826250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writehandman/pseuds/writehandman
Summary: When life (or the pastry chef across the street) gives you lemons, some people make lemonade. Gabriel, well he just makes pie instead to prove a point.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I know I know, its been a month since I've updated. Boo. Hiss. Take this instead.

When Sam came back from work, and opened the door to their apartment, the first thing he noticed was that the _entirety_ of the apartment smelled like lemon and sugar. Setting his briefcase on the ground by the umbrellas leaned against the wall and carelessly shucking his shoes in various directions, Sam padded into the kitchen.

"Gabe? What are you doing?" He asked, knowing better than to go and wrap his boyfriend up in a hug when he was baking. It'd been pretty tricky to try and explain the whisk shaped bruise on his forehead to his co-workers last time. Instead he leaned against the little island counter.

"Hm- oh, hey Sammy. Didn't realize you were home yet." Gabriel turned and Sam got a good look at him. He had flour dusted over his forehead and what almost looked like whipped cream stuck in his hair. Those honey brown eyes were sparkling mischievously, which was never exactly a good sign. "How was work?"

"Work was fine, but you're avoiding the question. What are you _doing_?" He added quickly before Gabriel could change the topic.

"Oh. 'M baking."

"Yeah, no, I noticed that. Why, and what are you baking?" His gaze drifted over to the stove, where there was a paper bag filled with lemons. "And why do we have so many lemons?"

"Uh, well, _Imight'vechallengedMs.Tristantoabakeofftoprovewhostrulythebestpastrychef_." Gabriel said quickly.

"Wait- what?" Sam shook his head and blinked. "A _bake off_? With Ms. _Tristan_? Gabe, I love you, but how is this a good idea?"

Gabriel fiddled with his hands. "Well, I mean, she came into the shop, all high and mighty, wearing that dress that looks like a curtain- you know the one I'm talking about?"

Sam knew exactly what dress he was talking about. The old lady had a dress that she thought was great, when in reality it looked like a heavy, velvety, purple paisley curtain had been draped around her and then tied off with the curtain tassels. It was horrible, and he nodded.

"Well," Gabriel continued. "She came in, looked at my display case, and called everything in it 'sub par', Saying my lemon meringue looked like a sixth graders culinary class attempt. So I said, 'You think you can make a better pie, Agnus?' And then, then she had the balls to tell me _yes_! So, we're bringing our pies tomorrow to the park, and we're going to see who's pie is really the best." He huffed, spinning back around on his heel and picking up what Sam now recognized as pie crust, and started covering it in flour.

"So? Just make a pie Gabe."

"Sam! I can't make any old pie! It's gotta be _perfect_! I can't let that old hag win!" Gabriel whined. "I've already made like, six imperfect ones."

"What? Six already?" Sam stuttered, unable to see any of them. "Did you throw them out babe?"

"Jeez, course not. I'm not that wasteful. I put them on the coffee table. I'm gonna go donate them to the soup kitchen once I finally get this recipe right."

"Well, can I help you then?"

"Well, now that you mention it, could you zest those lemons and then cut em paper thin?"

Sam leaned over and pecked him on the lips. "Sure."

\-----

"About time." Gabriel sighed happily, carefully transferring the pie from the oven onto his wire cooling racks. "I got it right."

"I knew you would honey." Sam laughed, opening the fridge and rearranging the items in it with one hand, trying to get to the beers at the back.

Gabe looked over. "They're behind the milk, Samster."

"Oh. Thanks." He said, grabbing a Coors for himself and a Sierra Nevada for Gabriel. "Why don't we watch some cable and then go to sleep? You're gonna need all your strength to come up with some victorious punchlines."

"I like the sound of that."

\-----

 


End file.
